


Every Breath You Take

by TeenageCriminalMastermind



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Eobard Thawne/OC, Eobard is the Hyde to Harrison's Jekyll, F/M, Gen, Harrison Wells/OC, I'm a sucker for tragedies, Obsession, Some snowbarry in here too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-16 06:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7256104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeenageCriminalMastermind/pseuds/TeenageCriminalMastermind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eobard Thawne has been watching every breath and every move of Barry Allen's under the guise of Harrison Wells since that fateful night. For someone with a goal as simple as getting home, his path is pretty much just obstacles. </p><p>Add in another obstacle of Kate Summers, a former friend of the late Harrison Wells, and this particular obstacle is proving just a tad too difficult to obliterate, what with the genius intellect, astute gaze and dogged determination. Add in Harrison Wells' memories and affections living on in him, and this lady might just be his undoing.</p><p>Just maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Explosion

**_It was good to be back in Central City._ **

She drinks in the sights, sounds and smells of her hometown, returning after a rather long period of twenty-two years. _Amazing how technology impacts everyday life,_ Kate wonders as she walks by, remembering those phone booths dotting this street when she was little _._ Central City sure has changed, she notes while passing by Jitters, a favourite haunt of hers during the high school years. It’s five in the morning, yet the sunlight gives a light, spring nine o'clock feeling.

“Been a long while since you’ve been here, ma’am?” a beat cop asks as she turns into an alley that used to lead to her parent’s home.

“Yeah - twenty two years, to be precise,” she smiles at him. “How do you get to Oakland Avenue now?”

“Go straight, take a turn by the precinct.” She thanks the man, turning back to ask one more thing.

“Why did they close this alley?”

“Been closed ever since Leonard Snart and Mick Rory tried to blow the neighbourhood up four years ago.” Even though the names mean nothing to her, she nods anyways and walks on.

Forty five minutes later, Kate sees a row of houses that she recognises from her childhood, with memories of boxing practices with her father and science experiments with her mother, of Led Zeppelin blasting from the neighbour’s house and Mrs West’s Christmas Eggnog and cake. She walks down the lane, locating 12 Oakland Avenue, and the house still looks the same if not for the film of dust covering the entire place.

Kate takes her time dusting the shelves - _it’s not like I have any commitments anyways._ She knows it’s the day of the particle accelerator starting, but it’s not like she’s been invited - _it wasn’t likely anyways,_ given Harrison Wells’ disposition and his superb ability to hold grudges. And besides, it isn’t a visual spectacle, just the flicking of a few switches and a beep signifying the start of the massive machine.

But the feelings that ensue…

That incredible feeling as you watch the live feed from the solenoid, the atoms racing around the tubes before a grand collision, the standard  model of physics coming alive before your very eyes. It’s something magical, powerful, and Kate loves the awe and wonder it brings along with it, like the first time a child sees a clear, starry sky, the sheer size of the cosmos dwarfing you and your imagination - _it’s something else in its own._

With the house now dusted and disinfected (she’d screeched her head off upon seeing a family of spiders - it had taken her ten minutes and a smattering of brooms across the house to chase those devils off), Kate collapses on the couch, not at all eager to start unpacking her boxes. Three hours later, OCD catches up with her anyways and she begins to unpack her box full of clothes, stuffing them in her late mother’s wardrobe. She runs her gaze across her parents’ bedroom, a feeling of nostalgia and heartache washing over her - _been three decades, still I miss them like it’s yesterday._ She’s a forty-eight year old woman, she should be able to hold her composure and not break down like a teenager every time she thinks of her parents.

By the time all the work is done and the clock strikes seven, it’s late and she’s way too tired to even walk across the room and pick up the phone to order pizza, so after a one hour nap, Kate somehow picks herself up and drags herself to the nearest Chinese restaurant.

“It’s something, isn’t it?” the waiter attending to her comments, pointing to the TV set mounted on the wall in front of her. The only news they have been covering is of the particle accelerator, and she can see Wells take the dais, speaking of the advent of a new future.

“Yeah, it’s something,” she replies with a sigh, taking a sip of her glass of water as the focus to the accelerator building, the site of the real action. At nine p.m. sharp, the accelerator will be put in operation, _and the standard model might be seeing its end._

With her dinner done, she’s walking back home when the sky sounds like it’s exploding, and lightning like she has never seen before illuminates the horizon. There’s something odd about it, and Kate only realises that the accelerator exploded when a wall of ions and dark matter rams into her, sending her tumbling to the ground and taking her consciousness along with it.

* * *

 

**_Loneliness is the archetypal counterpart of genius._ **

Or so Harrison would be forced to conclude, having been rendered lonely again save for that short interlude of fifteen years with Tess and his friends. Now, with Caitlin, Barry and Cisco, he would say that yes, he had company, but his isolation was not fully erased.

“Dr. Wells?” Caitlin called from the control center. “The applications are in.”

He wheeled himself in, looking at the tower of binders and envelopes. “Caitlin, Barry,” he called out, “categorize these by order of universities and institutions they have sent from.” Half an hour later, an arguing Barry and Caitlin have finished alphabetically sorting the piles, him having discarded the ones coming from anywhere below Central City University.

“Here,” Barry puts the pile on his table, racing off to join Cisco in one of the ever-continuing treadmill tests. Unlike Barry, Harrison is unable to read important documents such as this and a Big Belly Burger menu at rapid speeds, and is henceforth forced to endure three hours of torture via mind-numbing boredom, _in front of which getting punched would seem preferable._ One of the applications in the middle, however, catches his eye.

**Dr. Katherine Summers**

A small smile creeps up on his face, and, sliding the read applications in the adjoining dustbin, and he wheels himself up to his proteges, interrupting the Operation game in which Barry and Caitlin are now engrossed with a thud of the remaining applications hitting the floor. “Caitlin, do this paraplegic a favour and mail an electronic as well as a physical letter to Dr. Katherine ‘Kate’ Summers.”

“Katherine Summers?” Barry looks at his mentor with wide eyes. “ **_The_ ** Katherine Summers? The one who -”

“The one who headed NASA’s R&D Division before leaving for LexCorp and then for MIT as a professor? Yes, that very one.”

“I was going to say the one that went to college with you but yeah, all that too.”

“I did, indeed, know Dr. Summers well during my college days, and she will certainly be an asset to STAR Labs and to all our endeavours.” Caitlin was beaming.

“I was hoping you’d choose Doctor Summers - she’s been my idol ever since I was little.” At that Harrison mocked a hurt expression.

“I see that alliances change in the blink of an eye.”

“You’re the idol, Dr. Wells.”

“Well, that is reassuring to know, Ms Snow. Barry, shouldn’t you be getting back to training?” The latter gives him a sheepish smile, racing back to the treadmill as Caitlin collects the unread applications from the floor, heading towards the door. Even after fourteen months from the accident and Barry Allen’s addition to his daily routine, everything still feels the same.


	2. I Hear Voices

**_Hospitals are never so noisy._ **

At least that’s what Kate thought, because there was quite some chatter going around right now. She looks around her almost empty ward, and the lack of people in the room, supplied by the overload of voices scares her.

_ I wonder if Iris made lasagna. _

“How long have I been out?” she asks the person sitting beside her bed, who, fortunately, is awake.

“Oh my god,” the man breathes out, pressing the button beside her bed. “Doctors, kindly come in immediately - she’s regained consciousness.”

“Good evening Doctor Summers,” he remarks, smiling ruefully. “You have no idea how relieved everyone will be to see you awake since that particle accelerator blew - you were unconscious for the past twelve months.” 

“Twelve months,” Kate repeats, voice hollow. “I was unconscious for a year.”

The doctor-on-duty rushes in, panting as she rushes in the door. “Doctor Summers,” she remarks, looking relieved and incredulous more than anything -  _ but the statistics were dead against it! Oh god oh god oh god. I guess miracles do happen,  _ she says loudly, and Kate flinches a little. “I’m glad you woke up - I must admit the probability was low. After all, you were in a coma for a year. Your brain activity and strong vitals were the only thing that kept us from pulling the plug, despite your complete unresponsiveness.”

“Could you identify the cause?” 

“Well, you came in contact with the matter-” at that, Kate scoffs, mentally adding antimatter to the list as she tries to cover it with a cough. “Go on,” she tells the doctor.

“Like I said, the matter released from the particle accelerator had covered every inch of your body when we scanned you for injuries. Detective Thawne here found you.”

“Thank you, Detective,” she thanks the blonde man, who just smiles.  _ Well, this means overtime in taking statements,  _ she hears him say.

“Doctor, if you’re up for it -”

“It’s okay, you can take my statements tomorrow - wouldn’t want to keep your lady love waiting, would you?” The man looks at her, surprised, like she wasn’t supposed to hear him.

“How did you know?”

“Well, I heard you say it.” He looks at her strangely for a moment, and, judging by the doctor’s confused expression, Kate has the feeling that maybe no one was supposed to hear what he’d said.

“Doctor Summers, I’d advise you to sleep now. Buzz us if you need anything.” The doctor gives her a final smile, striding out of the room as she turns off the lights. Kate feels more awake than anything, despite her body aching everywhere possible, and the buzz of people talking is a constant sound getting on her nerves. She wants to get up and tell the people sitting outside to get lost and let her sleep, but she can’t. Plus, she’s hungry, and she figures calling the nurse right now doesn’t seem so bad an idea.

“Doctor, good to see you awake now,” a young man, dark haired and smiling, quips as he checks her vitals. “My little sister is in awe of your work.” Kate smiles, sitting upright amidst the mass of cords and needles attached to her. “Hungry?” She nods. “What’s your favourite?”

“Some white pasta and salad would be good.”

“Sure. Anything else?”

“Yeah,” she begins, “could you tell the people outside to be less noisy? It’s kind of jarring.” He too gives her a look that’s strange, like she’s hearing things she shouldn’t be hearing.

“I’ll tell the janitorial staff to keep it down,” he finally says, forcibly peppy, and Kate can hear him say how it’s weird that there is no one in the corridor and maybe the injuries are catching up with her.  _ Are they? _

Twenty minutes later, he walks in with her food, placing it on the bed table. “If you need anything else, buzz us.”

“Sure,” she replies, digging into the pasta, which tastes a bit off,  _ like all hospital food, _ she thinks dryly, but is fairly good.

A week full of grueling tests later, she’s signed the discharge papers, and the doctor in charge of her directs her to the psychologist’s office before she can leave. “Mandatory for all trauma patients, ma’am,” she tells her, waving goodbye. 

“So, Doctor Summers,” a man her age addresses her - he’s a Doctor Alan Snow. “Cosmology and aerospace engineering may not be my fields, but I suppose genius transcends boundaries.”

“Thank you for that wonderful compliment,” she greets him with a smile. “Mandatory for trauma patients now?”

“Always was,” he says, shuffling the papers on his desk. “You suffered a head injury, correct?”

“I guess I should’ve, having fallen on my back and colliding with the sidewalk headfirst.”

“Hmm,” he writes that down. “But you’ve been comatosed twelve months, yes?”

“Yup - I don’t suppose head trauma like mine should last that long.”

“No it shouldn’t,” he mutters. “Your nurses say you’ve been complaining of loud noises.”

“Psychosomatic, I guess - waking up after a year…” she laughs breathily.

“Yes, that should be it,” he grins. “Well, you’re good to go. Wish to see you around more.”

“And not injured,” she quips, exiting the room. It’s a lot quieter now, and maybe it all was psychosomatic, she tells herself while getting into a taxi. However, the quiet doesn’t last for long and a deafening barrage of noises attacks her, her ears and head filling with voices that clearly aren’t her own. The street is fairly populated, but nobody seems to be yelling, and the voices in her ears are positively loud, as if they were all talking loudly beside her.

She winces audibly, and the driver shoots her a concerned look, which Kate brushes off with a smile and an answer of ‘headache’.

She’s running into the house, shutting the door behind her as if to fend off an incoming mob. Leaning against the oak, she’s breathing hard and fast, breath coming out in rapid gasps. The voices are getting unbearable, a painful drumming on her skull. “Stop! Stop it, right now!” She yells to an empty house. “Stop, please,” she’s whimpering now, begging for the noises and the drumming to stop. Collecting whatever courage is left, she glances out of the window, and all she sees are kids playing, their laughter and playful yells mixing with the constant cacophony she’s hearing.

Instinctively, she dials the first number she can currently think of, fingers frantically flying across the keyboard.

“Kate?” the voice answers from the other end. “Oh, Good Lord -”

“Hey, Tina? I need to visit Mercury Labs, today.”

“Okay, dear - tell me when.”

“Around eight p.m. And please keep your medical research bay clear of people, please.”

“Kate, what’s wrong?” She sounds more worried than ever, the panic in her friend’s voice showing to the British on the other end.

“Tina, just do as I say. Please - I’ll explain when I get there.”

“All right. Kate, please be careful.” She hangs up, walking up to her bedroom and burrowing under the covers, and as much as those voices hurt, sleep eventually claims her, the noise fading away.

A few hours later, she’s at Mercury Labs, walking across the dimly lit corridor with Tina McGee. “Tina, I’ll need to use the EEG machine here. Can’t do it at the hospital.” The lady in question nods, opening the doors to the neuro-research lab.

“Here,” she forwards Kate the EEG cap, who puts it on, watching the machine come to life. “It looks normal, Kate,” the woman comments, and Kate turns to look at her, worried that her worst fear maybe coming true. Tina looks at her, and, out of the corner of her eye, Kate spots a change - a tiny spike, but a change nevertheless. 

“Tina, keep looking at me - make sure to keep eye contact at all times. And put on an EEG cap as well.” The former presses the record button on the EEG machine and does an instructed. She can hear Kate murmur about the absurdity, worrying  about her friend’s mental health. Two minutes later, the two go over the results, Tina’s eyes widening.

“Impossible…” Their graphs are identical, brain waves in sync.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Kate whispers fervently. “Please - just don’t.” She walks over to the machine, taking the encephalographs and wiping the machine clear of all data. Once the task is done, she’s escorted out of the building by Tina, who still looks flabbergasted. Kate gets into the car, tearing out of the compound and into the long dark road that leads back to Central City.

Two months later, she’s bending over her papers, going over a theory she herself cannot believe in. The pain in her head has dulled after two hours of meditation, as has the noise lessened, so she figures that this ‘telepathy’ (she cringes at the term) can be controlled.  _ I’m not Charles Xavier, am I?  _ She scoffs at the notion, although it does apply to her -  _ after all, I was a professor till now. _ She’s mailed her CV to STAR Labs two weeks ago, hoping that personal differences don’t get in the way of work and the only place that seems to be capable of helping her now, what with the news of the Flash flying around.

She knows the Flash stays at STAR Labs, having tracked his exit trajectories over a period of five weeks.

Her phone pings, the sound of an incoming mail. 

**_Dear Doctor Summers,_ **

**_As an employee of S.T.A.R. Labs, it is my pleasure to inform you that you have been appointed as the Head of the Research & Development Department. Dr Wells and his team looks forward to working with you._ **

**_With all due respect,_ **

**_Caitlin Snow, M.D._ **

**_P.S. - You are my idol, Dr Summers. It is an honour to be getting an opportunity to work with you. :D_ **

_ Well, that’s one problem solved.  _ She could’ve gone at once, but didn’t want to seem desperate in front of Harrison Wells, running for help like some silly damsel in distress, and the two months she took also helped her figure out a few things on her own.

She picks up her work bag, wincing a little as the noises in her head start again.  _ This is going to be a long drive. _

**Author's Note:**

> Read and comment.


End file.
